


Unintended Effects

by NewLeeland



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (Though not for the main ship), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But also some grief, F/M, Fluff, Mourning, Sad Memories, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland
Summary: Anon: I wish you'd write a fic where... Cass is a cop who gets a complaint from an old man named Tarkin about the noisy girl next door. He ends up staying for tea and biscuits, and her phone number.Operaticspacetrash: I’d almost want to write this from Tarkin’s perspective, where it would end happily for him, too, because the noisy girl would eventually move out and into a place with her new police officer fiancé (and yet would be perplexed when he got an invite to the wedding–their reasoning that he was the reason they met).





	Unintended Effects

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is based on an anonymous prompt our sorely missed fandom member "operaticspacetrash"/"Jaded" got once:
> 
> Anon: I wish you'd write a fic where... Cass is a cop who gets a complaint from an old man named Tarkin about the noisy girl next door. He ends up staying for tea and biscuits, and her phone number.
> 
> Operaticspacetrash: I’d almost want to write this from Tarkin’s perspective, where it would end happily for him, too, because the noisy girl would eventually move out and into a place with her new police officer fiancé (and yet would be perplexed when he got an invite to the wedding–their reasoning that he was the reason they met).
> 
> \-- As a Tarkin and RebelCaptain fan, it seemed like the ideal story for me to write. It won't be remotely as good as Jaded could have written it, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.
> 
> Special thanks to my veteran beta [Kobo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo)!

* * *

He thought the days of having to raise noise complaints were past him.

On the other hand, he also thought he would get more time to spent with his wife.

But life had proven both of William Tarkin’s thoughts wrong. His wife died three years ago, a sudden terminal illness robbing her of all her liveliness. He fought against accepting her death for a long time, even after she told him he would have to let go of her. William had always tried his best to follow her wishes. But her final one, this one he could not heed.

He questioned his life for almost two years, having lost not only her, but much of the joy he felt while she was alive. Without her, everything seemed darker, dimmer and less hopeful. What reason did he have to stay alive anymore? He could not find one. He had resigned all his political commissions once his wife had fallen ill and when he finally felt like setting a foot outside his house again, his fellow party members had given him their condolences, but also the veiled but nonetheless clear message that others had taken his old posts. He was no longer needed.

After two years, he could no longer stand living in the house that reminded him so much of everything he had lost. Happier memories lurked behind every corner, ready to assault him and drown him in new waves of pain.

The empty rooms felt even more empty from day to day and finally, Tarkin moved out. He couldn’t sell the house, not while he was alive. It was like a monument of his wife, he could still feel and see her influence in the furniture, the pictures of them and even in such mundane things like a scratch in the wood of the wall cabinet. He treasured these memories and would never part from them. But he couldn’t stay there either.

Money he had in abundance, so renting a small, three-room-flat closer to the city centre hadn’t been a problem and he could still keep the house, visiting it from time to time when the memories had reached him even in his self-imposed exile.

The building housing his flat was nondescriptive, clean and near to the city’s park. William Tarkin spent his widower days with reading the newspaper, keeping track of politics and even more reading. The library at his old home had been extensive and he brought new books with him every time he visited it.

When the muse struck him, he still wrote brief comments on local and national political issues to pass the time. Apart from that, he walked a lot, the peaceful nature calming his thoughts between whiles.

Promenading - no matter what temperature or weather - always grounded him and gave him the peace he so desperately seeked. No thoughts, no bitter memories.

The only other activity that yielded similar results was listening to some old records he had bought when he was young. The music reminded him of his youth, how he had first met his wife and although these memories were bittersweet and brought tears more often than happiness, it became a ritual for him to listen to at least one of the round discs every Friday night.

He didn’t care much for his neighbours - mostly younger people in their mid-twenties who had just left college and finally faced the raw reality of work life. One exception was the young lady living right next to him.

She wasn’t unfriendly per se and she had greeted him the three or four times they had met in the hallway. Apart from that, they did not interact.

Friday evenings were different though. Tarkin did not know why she was especially loud on these days, maybe she had a hard week and tried to let off some steam. Contrary to what other young people did, she did not leave her flat to go to a club, a disco or a bar. No. His neighbour stayed at home.

William had no idea what she did exactly. It wasn’t music or TV or even loud conversations on the phone. No, it sounded more like… grunting maybe? And like she was moving heavy furniture.

Normally, he would have gone over there and raised a complaint in person, but he was in a comfortable bathrobe and his fuzzy slippers and wasn’t in the mood to change simply to shower her with his remonstrance.

It hadn’t been her first offence, he told himself as he dialed the nearby police precinct. It wasn’t like he was pressing charges or something like that. He merely wanted her to be more quiet. Also, he preferred not be the person to be so nosy and enquire what she was doing. He didn’t care about that, he just wanted a few hours of peace.

The voice answering his call had a slight accent, a Spanish one. “Officer Andor, what can I do for you?”

“Good evening, officer. My name is William Tarkin, I’m a tenant in the Hamilton Building, 323 Birdwood Road. I’d like to file a noise complaint against my neighbour, room 2.04. I’d be much obliged if you could sent one of your men to take care of the problem.”

Officer Andor sounded tired, maybe his shift was ending. But he nonetheless agreed. “Hamilton Building, 323 Birdwood Road, room 2.04. Got it, Sir, we’ll handle it immediately.”

“Thank you, officer,” Tarkin replied before ending the call.

Maybe he would get a few quiet minutes today.

* * *

Cassian wasn’t too thrilled with his task when he climbed the stairs to the second floor of the Hamilton Building. The day had been long, his boss - a gruff, short-haired man going by the name David Draven - even more grumpy than normal and to top it all off, even Kay had hounded him into joining his work colleagues Kes, Shara, Bodhi and Luke at a bar after his shift.

He liked his colleagues, he really did. But he had worked close to sixty hours this week and the only thing he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep until Saturday afternoon. Cassian had been at the door when his phone rang, a new intern downstairs rerouting the call to his desk.

The man had been kind enough, but judging from his voice, he was one of these older fellows annoyed by anything louder than their own breathing. It was a tedious job and one that would not get him any thanks. Noise complaints always annoyed the ones who got them and they rarely helped.

The sounds coming from flat 2.04 were something abnormal though. He would have expected them in a gym or in a dojo, but not in a small, but neat apartment block. The voice - apparently female - was laboured, breathed heavily and was just as frustrated as he felt.

He didn’t have to wait long after ringing the doorbell for the tenant to open up.

Cassian felt his tiredness disappear instantly.

The woman was small, two heads or so smaller than him (and he was not very large, at least for a man) and stunning. She was dressed in sweat-drenched t-shirt and trackies. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead, her hair wet and despite a break from whatever it was she had been doing, her breathing still had to even out.

Spotting his uniform, her tired eyes got even wider. “Yes?” She asked, not happy but not too repelling either.

“Good evening, Miss…” He checked the doorbell again “Erso. I’m Officer Andor and I fear I have a voice complaint from one of your neighbours.”

“What?” Her reaction was a mix of shock and angriness, her pretty face twisting with disbelief. “You’re absolutely sure he or she meant me?”

“Flat 2.04?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, yes. What is it you were doing exactly?” He asked, sounding all business, but he was more than a bit intrigued.

Miss. Erso - Jyn Erso, according to the label next to her doorbell - invited him in with a brief nod. The flat was impersonal, his trained eyes only spotted a few items that weren’t everyday necessities like cups, plates or bags. A framed photo, perhaps of Jyn with her parents stood on a small table next to the couch.

More interesting was a punching bag, hanging suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room.

Jyn had cleaned herself up a bit with a towel and offered him the chair next to the couch with another small nod.

Once both had sat down, Cassian cleared his voice. “Well, I guess we can make this short…”

* * *

William Tarkin had been carefully waiting and eavesdropping. To the police officer’s credit, he arrived barely fifteen minutes after the call had ended. The noises in the room next to him hadn’t faded, but he was still able to discern when the officer rang next door. Faint voices were noticeable, one of them his neighbour’s and the other one belonging to the officer.

Tarkin couldn’t understand what they were saying exactly, and he didn’t mind it much. The details of the conversation were none of his business. What was important for him was that the noises had stopped and he could relax and enjoy the records now in peace.

* * *

The conversation had been brief and impersonal and Cassian had been a bit disappointed. It wasn’t him to flirt on the job, that seemed cheap, especially when he was in a position of power - more or less. But the girl - Jyn - was pretty despite her dishevelled state and while looking as tired as he did after her workout, she still radiated energy.

It all changed when he somehow mentioned Bodhi, who was apparently also a friend of hers.

From then on, it went swimmingly. It almost seemed as if knowing and befriending Bodhi was a “decent human being” certificate in her eyes and it broke the ice immediately.

She told him about how she just moved here after finishing college and started working for a friend of her parents called Saw. She enjoyed her job, although it kept her too much at the desk for now. Eager to prove she got the post due to her skills and not just because Saw was almost as close as an uncle, she worked extra hard. Which meant she needed an outlet to let off steam.

“I thought of joining a gym, but I didn’t have time to go looking for one so far and the one’s I know are all closer to the city centre. Right now,” she added with a small sigh, “I was too tired to search for one on Friday evening. So I got that old punching back and trained a bit. Not long, one hour at the most.”

“Have you tried Chirrut’s?” Cassian asked, the noise complaint long forgotten.

“No.”

“It will solve all your problems, believe me. It’s just around the corner, halfway between here and my precinct. My colleagues and I are there regularly. I met Bodhi there, it’s nice, clean and cheap. A five-minute-walk, nothing more.” He did not mention Chirrut’s partner, Baze. Baze was an acquired taste. But something told him Jyn might just get along with him fine.

They talked a bit more about Bodhi, who had moved to the city a few months earlier, about their jobs, workout techniques, sports and he even gave her some tips regardings restaurants and bars.

Cassian had found such smalltalk tedious in the past, but this time it was different. Jyn was fierce with her opinions, lighted up when she spoke about Bodhi (who was her brother in all but blood judging from her declarations), radiated energy like christmas decorations, was funny and had a talent for barbs. All in all, he found her very endearing.

They talked for almost two hours when their mutual fatigue got the better of them. She promised to check out the gym as soon as possible and refrain from more audible ways of training until then.

At the door, he hesitated, but finally said with a blush. “Would you like to have my number? Just in case you need anything, some more tips and Bodhi’s not available…”

She cut him off with a relieved smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

William Tarkin had no idea what had transpired in the room next to him, but he knew that from this day on, peace and quiet returned.

His neighbour either did not know it was him who had called the police on her or she didn’t care. Her greetings on the rare occasions they met were just as friendly as they had been before.

From time to time, it was a bit louder at the weekends in her apartment, the sound of laughter and general amusement filling the flat. But it never was as rowdy or annoying as one could accept it while living with other people.

From time to time, he thought he could hear the voice of the officer he had called back then among them. But he had to be mistaken, surely.

* * *

Maybe a year later, there was again commotion in the apartment next to him. When he went out to get some groceries, he met his neighbour and a group of her friend on the stairs, carrying boxes of clothes and smaller furniture down towards a waiting truck. At the bottom of the stairs, his neighbour stood, smiling, in the arms of a Hispanic man who traded some barbs with a tall man with short blonde hair who apparently complained that while the girl - Jyn - was the one moving out, she didn’t lift a finger so far.

A few weeks later, a new tenant moved in and the man was as silent as a grave.

* * *

Another two years later, William Tarkin found something in his mail he never expected to get: A wedding invitation.

The names of bride and groom - Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor - did not ring any bells, but William Tarkin wasn’t one to ignore such an invitation. It would have been discourteous.

It was only when he offered his congratulation on their nuptials at the dinner after the ceremony that he suddenly realized who the pair was.

The girl was his former neighbour, the one with the loud noises in the beginning.

The man - he had never seen him, no he had, he remembered that day she moved out - William did identify by his voice. It was only on the phone, but Tarkin had the skill to remember and distinguish between voices and he was the officer he had called about three years ago when the girl had disturbed his quiet evening. He wondered why he didn't realize it earlier.

They held no grudges, they told him. After all, without his noise complaint they might have never met. And although it surely hadn’t been his intention, it still had let to them getting to know each other back then and they were grateful for that. Grateful enough to invite him to the wedding.

William Tarkin congratulated them again, expressed his gratitude for his invitation and wished them all the best.

Maybe it was him desperately grasping for some reason, for some justification for still being alive. Maybe it was not. Maybe he was meant to stay behind to be a chess piece in some higher force’s game and maybe this higher force meant for his noisy former neighbour and the policeman to be together.

Either way, he wasn’t gonna complain.

**Author's Note:**

> The backstory of Tarkin and the far too soon loss of his wife is inspired by the life of Tarkin's actor, Peter Cushing and his wife. Their story is as heartbreaking as it is beautiful.


End file.
